"Mend this place...." Lotte sighed and swung her arms around her. "But this place is so awful! And if I were going to kill someone... well, I think I'd want to do it with my own two hands... or at least my own magic. I can't imagine the reward is as satisfying when someone else does the dirty work," she purred.
The bitter, ragged rage of her parents' carelessness had haunted her for a long time, slowly dulled and smoothed out by the endless barrage of sand and silt. Still, somewhere deep down, it smoldered, awakened now by Alastor's query.
"What did who do to me?" Lotte watched him walk the rows of plants, touch them, saw them respond to their creator in turn, the way they arched toward him, the source of his power.
She walked along with him in parallel, boots kicking up the dust as she looked up at the sky. "My parents? They used me happily to keep their own little village alive, tending to their crops, making them remedies. It wasn't hard, the area wasn't hit nearly as badly as this place. They ended up with an excess of crop just as all the prices dropped... wheat that should have sold for sixty cents a bushel selling for ten, maybe... and then what else of value did they have other than their darling, witch child to sell at that point?"
Lotte dug her heel into the sand, crushing something under her boot that couldn't have been seen by the naked eye even if it were truly there.
"They told this town that the surplus was all my doing, that I was a miracle worker... when they came to collect me, my parents hadn't told me a thing. Dragged me out of my bed in the middle of the night with only the clothes on my back and shoved me into the back of a truck. They were kind enough to send most of my journals and supples for spellwork with me. No goodbyes. Just let me scream and scream and cry until I was out of sight."
Whenever she thought of it, Lotte felt a fire build up in her that was hard to tame. The very tips of her fingers began to turn black, and she held them up as little sparks of flame spit and hissed around her nails.
"I tried to escape more than once. State troopers kept bringing me back. They locked me in this cabin, nailed the shutters and the door closed, for about a month until I gave it up. Threatened to tar and feather me, burn me at the stake... throw me to the witch hunters to be kidnapped and raped if I tried to run off. 'Course they wouldn't. Witches are expensive... I'm too valuable to give away, but I didn't know that then. And I wouldn't damn another poor girl to live here now."
Her fingers curled closed and she extinguished the flames, smoke curling up from her hand. No one was going to touch her with lust or threat of violence. She'd made that clear early on.
"My parents did send a letter once! I threw it into the stove without opening it, and I'll likely sentence them to a similar fate if I ever see their faces again." If she saw them again... who knows what urges might overtake her good nature. Lotte looked over at him, still burning up with righteous anger, a want for vengeance deep in her belly.
"But if I could have anything... I'd go far away from here. Somewhere lush and brimming with life and magic and things like us! If such a place exists." She exhaled, could almost feel the ash and smoke seep from her belly full of embers and hot coal. "My turn! Who were you when you were alive?"
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The bitter, ragged rage of her parents' carelessness had haunted her for a long time, slowly dulled and smoothed out by the endless barrage of sand and silt. Still, somewhere deep down, it smoldered, awakened now by Alastor's query.
"What did who do to me?" Lotte watched him walk the rows of plants, touch them, saw them respond to their creator in turn, the way they arched toward him, the source of his power.
She walked along with him in parallel, boots kicking up the dust as she looked up at the sky. "My parents? They used me happily to keep their own little village alive, tending to their crops, making them remedies. It wasn't hard, the area wasn't hit nearly as badly as this place. They ended up with an excess of crop just as all the prices dropped... wheat that should have sold for sixty cents a bushel selling for ten, maybe... and then what else of value did they have other than their darling, witch child to sell at that point?"
Lotte dug her heel into the sand, crushing something under her boot that couldn't have been seen by the naked eye even if it were truly there.
"They told this town that the surplus was all my doing, that I was a miracle worker... when they came to collect me, my parents hadn't told me a thing. Dragged me out of my bed in the middle of the night with only the clothes on my back and shoved me into the back of a truck. They were kind enough to send most of my journals and supples for spellwork with me. No goodbyes. Just let me scream and scream and cry until I was out of sight."
Whenever she thought of it, Lotte felt a fire build up in her that was hard to tame. The very tips of her fingers began to turn black, and she held them up as little sparks of flame spit and hissed around her nails.
"I tried to escape more than once. State troopers kept bringing me back. They locked me in this cabin, nailed the shutters and the door closed, for about a month until I gave it up. Threatened to tar and feather me, burn me at the stake... throw me to the witch hunters to be kidnapped and raped if I tried to run off. 'Course they wouldn't. Witches are expensive... I'm too valuable to give away, but I didn't know that then. And I wouldn't damn another poor girl to live here now."
Her fingers curled closed and she extinguished the flames, smoke curling up from her hand. No one was going to touch her with lust or threat of violence. She'd made that clear early on.
"My parents did send a letter once! I threw it into the stove without opening it, and I'll likely sentence them to a similar fate if I ever see their faces again." If she saw them again... who knows what urges might overtake her good nature. Lotte looked over at him, still burning up with righteous anger, a want for vengeance deep in her belly.
"But if I could have anything... I'd go far away from here. Somewhere lush and brimming with life and magic and things like us! If such a place exists." She exhaled, could almost feel the ash and smoke seep from her belly full of embers and hot coal. "My turn! Who were you when you were alive?"